Lyra's POV
The morning after the storm was quiet, almost deceptively so. Sunlight pierced through the broken canopy, casting fractured rays onto the forest floor. The air smelled of wet earth and rain, but beneath it, something lingered tension, unease, a promise that the calm wouldn't last.
Kaelan moved silently beside me, his presence a constant tether. My body still ached from the battle, muscles tense, but my mind raced faster than my heart could keep pace. The warlock's defeat had been a victory, yes but it felt like a prelude, the first note of a symphony of danger that had only just begun.
"We should check the perimeter," Kaelan said, eyes scanning the treeline. "I don't trust that was their only move."
I nodded, following him with silent steps. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, felt magnified. Wolves padded behind us, their movements almost imperceptible, senses sharpened like blades ready to strike.
